


You Got Yourself In Deep There

by akamww3



Series: Advantages [5]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Married Mollcroft, Mollcroft, Sex (Mature)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-27
Updated: 2015-12-27
Packaged: 2018-05-09 17:10:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5548586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akamww3/pseuds/akamww3
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>The new family grows ever closer ... </em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Got Yourself In Deep There

_First Saturday in October …_

Molly Hooper Holmes stared intently into those beautiful steel blue eyes and smiled widely in encouragement. “Come on, sweetie … just a little more … if you’d just let go – _all right!”_

She scooted forward on her belly to hover face-to-face over Michael, who was looking wide-eyed at finding himself so abruptly on his back. She smothered the baby’s face with kisses and blew a raspberry on his tummy, causing him to chortle with laughter. Michael had been rolling from back to tummy at unexpected times for two weeks or so, but Molly had now used his favorite toy to entice him into rolling in reverse order. “You’re such a _clever_ boy,” she crooned, then blew a raspberry on his neck, causing him to wave his arms and kick his legs.

Molly pushed herself up on her knees then sat back on her calves. “Can you roll onto your tummy now?” She grabbed the teddy bear and rubbed it against Michael’s chest, then made the bear dance in the air before putting it on the floor where he could see but not quite reach it. Michael stared at Gilbert for a few moments, then looked back at Molly with that mini-Mycroft crease between his brows. Molly then rhythmically shook a plastic bottle filled with dried beans and placed it beside the bear. Michael stared at the bottle, forehead wrinkled and lips poked out, then the next moment he rolled onto his tummy and reached for Gilbert and mashed his face against the teddy bear with a gurgling chuckle.

Molly laughed with Michael, well-satisfied with the day’s results. Their playtime sessions had become a morning and afternoon routine, usually carried out on a thick blanket on the floor of the music room. Molly was determined to give Michael as much one-on-one attention as possible before the end of her maternity leave. As the weeks had passed and the periods he was awake lengthened, the baby had appeared to watch everything she did and started to mimic her expressions. Molly had kept encouraging him to copy her movements as well, so when Michael first lay on his stomach, Molly had done it before him. When he was strong enough to lift his head, Molly had first lain close beside him, face-to-face, so he could see her lifting her own head. She had been elated when he first raised his head enough to clear the floor, but when he first lifted his shoulders off the floor as well and used his arms for support, it was a great milestone … and his surprised expression as he looked around the room had made Molly laugh.

Molly’s wandering attention snapped back to Michael when he rubbed his face against the bear, then abruptly rolled onto his back again. He gurgled a laugh at Molly’s deliberately dramatic gasps and exuberant praise. When Michael suddenly let go of the bear and instead grabbed his toes and stared at them in fascination, Molly quickly pulled her phone out of her pocket and took a photo – and then another one when he looked straight at her with a sweet grin, showing off the white tips of the two bottom teeth which had come through the week before.

“You know you’re adorable, don’t you,” she said, grinning back at him. “I’m sending these to Grandma and Grandpa right now.” Just after the text went through, Molly heard the front door open and glanced at the time … half past three. “Your daddy’s work didn’t take as long as he thought it would,” she said, raising her brows at Michael and smiling as she got to her feet. She picked Michael up and carefully placed him on the mat attached to the play gym, then left him batting at a squeaky frog as she crossed the room … and almost ran into Mycroft when she went through the door.

Mycroft felt the tension in his neck and shoulders start to ease when Molly smiled brightly and pressed her body flush against him, murmuring a breathy hello as she wrapped her arms around his back. Mycroft slid a hand through Molly’s hair, then gently tugged on her ponytail to tilt her head until their eyes met. He slowly smiled and bent to kiss her, at first softly without any pressure, then deeper when her lips parted and she strained higher onto her toes. They finally broke apart when Michael squealed … in excitement, they found, at having caused the toy giraffe to bounce around on the play gym.

Mycroft looked at the various other toys Molly had set out, then bent to pick up two of the plastic bottles – one containing rice and the other pasta. “Shake them,” she said, grinning when Mycroft did so and lifted his chin in acknowledgment. She picked up the bottle with the beans and gave it a shake. “Michael seems fascinated by the different sounds they make.”

Despite being in a suit, Mycroft crouched beside the baby and reached over him to squeeze the giraffe, which squeaked shrilly. Michael waved his fists in the air, then turned his head and saw his father, which made him kick his feet and wave his arms even more enthusiastically. Mycroft carefully slid his hands beneath Michael’s nape and bottom to lift him off the mat, then got to his feet and settled the baby high against his chest. Molly laughed when Michael flapped a hand against Mycroft’s right cheek just before mashing his face against the other. The baby didn’t have great control of his head or his finer motor skills, but he seemed to know what he wanted.

As usual, Molly suppressed any outward reaction to Mycroft’s casual acceptance of Michael’s drooly “kisses,” but it never failed to make her feel positively _mushy_ with sentiment. “We haven’t done our dancing yet,” she observed, arching a brow. “I don’t suppose _you-”_

“You ‘don’t suppose’ correctly,” Mycroft agreed drily. “I’ll leave the dancing to you.”

“Would you like to choose the music?”

“That infernal pop music of yours all sounds the same,” he said, grimacing.

Molly huffed a laugh, knowing he knew she also played classical music. “Oh, don’t try that stick-in-the-mud act with me, buster. I happen to know you actually _like_ some of it.”

“Nonsense,” Mycroft said mildly, then transferred Michael to her and checked his pocket watch. He pursed his lips for a few moments and lifted his eyes to hers. “Would you like to go for a walk? Is there time before Michael’s nap?”

“Yes, please – and it won’t matter if he falls asleep in the pram,” she said lightly, hiding her surprise at the offer. “You go change your clothes and I’ll get Michael ready.” Mycroft and Molly had often taken walks in Regent’s Park on Saturday afternoons during her pregnancy – his work and the weather permitting - but this would be the first time since the baby’s birth.

The three of them went upstairs together, then separated in the hall outside their bedrooms. Molly continued to Michael’s room, quickly changed his nappy, and put a light hoodie and some baby boots on him. The two of them returned downstairs and on to the sitting room where Molly had left her trainers, then went to get the pram from the storage room by the kitchen. They were ready and waiting at the front door when Mycroft came down a few minutes later.

~~~~~

“There,” Molly pointed, then waited while Mycroft carefully studied the pavement and grassy areas on either side, before turning back to her with a crease between his brows. “I _told_ you it was just a stupid accident. There’s nothing here to have caused me to go splat.” The abrasions on Molly's face and hands from a fall two weeks earlier had mostly healed and there hadn’t been any complications from her head hitting the pavement.

Molly watched Michael as she jiggled the handle of the pram, causing it to bounce a bit, and the baby reacted with his usual enthusiasm. Simply put, Molly thought as she watched his limbs flail about, Michael was a very happy and healthy baby who obviously enjoyed activities that stimulated his senses, but he also enjoyed their quiet time. Breastfeeding was still his sole source of nutrition, and he was thriving on it. Michael now nursed for longer periods, four or five times a day, but she would begin offering him solid food in about six weeks and Molly was bracing herself for the change. She knew Michael might start to self-wean at that point, but, as with everything to do with breastfeeding for them, the process would be baby-led.

Molly started and turned to look at Mycroft when he touched her back. “Are you all right, my dear?”

Molly huffed a laugh and started walking again. “Just thinking about breastfeeding.”

“Should I ask?”

Molly glanced at Mycroft, smiling at his dry tone, then turned back to watch where she was walking. _No more falls,_ she thought. “I was wondering how Michael will react to solid foods next month – if he’ll start to wean himself.” She looked at Mycroft again and sighed. “Never mind. Whatever happens, happens. It’s up to him.”

Mycroft put his arm around her shoulders, then brought them to a stop. “Molly –”

She leaned her head against the side of his chest for a moment, then sighed and tilted her head back to meet his eyes. “Watch it, darling – this is verging on a public display.” She smiled, then straightened, hoping he hadn’t noticed the tears suddenly blurring her vision. “Come on, we have a hill to tackle … if you feel up to it, that is,” she teased, giving him a sidelong glance.

“I’m game,” he said, “but you better let me take Michael on the way down.”

Molly gasped dramatically and stopped to stare at him wide-eyed. “Mycroft Holmes pushing a _pram?_ What if someone you know _sees_ you?” When Mycroft gave her a withering look, Molly laughed and bumped his arm with her head. “Primrose Hill it is then.”

~~~~~

_Third Tuesday in October …_

More than a month after Mycroft first offered the special treat, the day Molly had been eagerly anticipating finally arrived. Plans had been confirmed the prior evening, and Molly, Mrs. Collingwood and a sleeping Michael were with Walter on the M1 at half past six on their way to Bedford.

At half past one, Mycroft’s phone vibrated while he was in a meeting. He continued Lady Smallwood’s preliminary security briefing on an upcoming trip, but his attention had momentarily wandered and she noticed. “Do you need to get that, Mycroft?”

“No,” he replied calmly, “please go on.”

Lady Smallwood continued to question Mycroft about the conference, but paused when his phone vibrated again. She pointedly lifted a brow. Mycroft sighed and pulled his phone from his jacket pocket, glanced at the screen, then smoothly rose to his feet. “Excuse me, Catherine.” Once he was in a quiet alcove off the hall outside her office, Mycroft returned the call. “Walter?”

“There’s no problem, sir,” his driver said, “but I thought you’d like to know Mrs. Holmes decided to stay for the late afternoon session.” He paused before continuing, “She’s taken to everything even more … _keenly_ than you expected, especially the evasive maneuvers.”

Mycroft raised his eyes to the decorative ceiling, suppressing a sigh, but then a flicker of amusement passed over his face. “And Jeremy?”

“He’s as determinedly stoical as ever,” Walter replied wryly, and Mycroft’s lips twitched at the thought of the retired operative having to deal with a cheerily gung-ho client who also happened to be the wife of his former boss. “We should be back by eight at the latest.”

“Good man,” Mycroft said and was about to ring off when … “Was there something else?”

“Mrs. Holmes saw the course schedule for tomorrow and she asked me about, um …”

Mycroft’s brow creased and his lids dropped closed as he pressed his lips together in a thin line. “Surely not the ramming drills.”

“Yes, sir.”

Mycroft suppressed another sigh. “I’ll deal with it. Thanks, Walter.”

~~~~~  


Mycroft let himself into the house just before nine that evening, hung his umbrella on its hook, and stood in the front hall, head tilted, listening carefully, then continued down the hall, glancing in the music and sitting rooms as he passed by them. He left his briefcase in the study, then headed for the kitchen, which was also empty. He heard rustling noises coming from the laundry room, then Mrs. Collingwood walked into the kitchen and stopped abruptly when she saw him.

“I didn’t hear you come in, Mr. Mycroft,” she said, smiling over her shoulder as she walked toward the sink. “I just made tea. Would you like a cup?”

Mycroft returned the smile as he dropped onto a stool at the island. “Thanks, Mrs. C.” He watched her dry her hands, then cleared his throat. “You shouldn’t be here this late. I understand you had a longer day out than anticipated.”

The housekeeper recognized the underlying concern in his matter-of-fact tone and bit her lip before turning around with another smile. “We all had a wonderful time,” she said, then took him his tea before returning for hers. “The baby certainly took an interest in all the comings and goings.” She gave Mycroft another smile as she sat on a stool across from him. “Michael was surprisingly unruffled by the strange people and surroundings, Mr. Mycroft. The center’s director had set aside a small office for our use, and Michael kept to his nursing and nap schedule without a whimper.”

Mycroft lifted his chin and nodded, then took a sip of tea. “His easy-going nature obviously comes from Molly,” he said wryly, “unless it skipped a generation and came straight from my father.”

Mrs. Collingwood huffed a laugh. “Mr. Holmes is certainly remarkably forbearing.”

“He’s needed to be to survive life with the rest of my family,” Mycroft said, rising to his feet after finishing his tea. “You should go home, Mrs. C.”

“What about your dinner, Mr. Mycroft? Miss Molly ate earlier, of course, but I can have yours warmed up in a jiffy.”

“I’ll reheat it later,” he said. “Go on now. We’ll see you in the morning.”

The housekeeper nodded, then cleared her throat. “By the way, Mr. Mycroft,” she said, deadpan, “I fear Miss Molly now regrets her chosen career path.”

“Indeed,” he said with a quirk of his lips. “From what I’ve heard, she’d like to have given Lewis Hamilton a run for his money.”

Once upstairs, Mycroft quietly let himself into Michael’s room, hovered over the cot for a few moments watching the baby sleep, and then went across the hall to their bedroom, stopping just inside the door. There was no sign of Molly, so he stepped into her dressing room and called her name, waiting for her invitation before entering the bathroom. He paused for a moment, glancing around when he didn’t immediately see her. He gaze stopped on the infinity tub as a small wave of water sloshed over the edge and was immediately followed by Molly’s head emerging from underwater … _rather like a mermaid_ , he thought fancifully. She raised her hands to slick her hair back, then folded her arms on the tub’s edge and smiled at him. “Good evening, Mr. Holmes.”

Mycroft strolled across the room, then slid his hands into his trouser pockets and rocked back on his heels. “I hear you’ve had an eventful day, Mrs. Holmes.”

Molly hummed happily in agreement. “I’ve had a _fantastic_ day,” she said, holding his gaze as she pushed away from the side of the extra-large, extra-deep tub. “Would you, um, like to help make it even better?”

Mycroft glanced at the baby monitor, then raised his brows. “How long before Michael wakes up?”

“He just went down at half past seven so probably about eleven.”

Mycroft pulled his hands from his pockets and braced them on the side of the tub as he bent to give her a quick kiss. “I’ll be back in a few minutes,” he said and soon returned in his dressing gown. He shrugged out of it and gingerly lowered himself into the warm water, then leaned back and looked at Molly who was facing him from the other end of the tub. The water completely covered her shoulders and all he could see clearly from that angle was her head and throat. He released a long breath, then rested his arms along the tub’s edges and stretched out his legs. “So tell me about your fantastic day,” he said, prodding her thigh with a toe.

Molly tilted her head and studied his expression for several moments before gripping the sides of the tub to lift herself up. She knee-walked toward Mycroft, carefully straddling his legs, and finally sat on his thighs. He arched an eyebrow but otherwise his expression didn’t change when she slid her arms over his shoulders and leaned closer until the tips of her breasts brushed his chest and they were face-to-face.

“I learned to drive very fast in reverse and did lots of J turns.” She held his eyes as she slowly smoothed her palms down his chest and curved her fingers around his ribs. “Have you ever done a J turn?” He lifted his chin in acknowledgment. “What about a handbrake turn?” He nodded again. “So … what’s the most important thing about doing a handbrake turn?” When Mycroft pursed his lips thoughtfully, Molly slid her right hand down his stomach and wrapped her fingers around his penis, which stiffened further at her touch. “Being sure to keep the button depressed,” she said, holding his eyes as she answered her own question and slid her hand up his hard length to press her thumb over its tip. Mycroft drew a sharp breath through clenched teeth when Molly brushed the pad of her thumb over highly sensitive flesh. She did it again, then slid her hand back down, tightened her fingers around the thickest part of him and, after lifting onto her knees, slowly rubbed him against her entrance. “I spent quite a lot of time handling that handbrake,” she said huskily as she took him into her, then slid her hand up his chest and around his neck and leaned forward to whisper in his ear, “and every time I slid my hand up that hard length, I thought of you.” Mycroft curved his hands around the sides of her hips when she sat up. “The instructor must have wondered why my face was so red,” she added, smiling as she lifted herself several inches, then sank back down. _“Mmm.”_

 _“Mmm_ … I do hope,” Mycroft said a bit breathlessly as he tightened his grip on her hips, “that you paid attention to Jeremy’s instructions, my love.”

“I must have done since I aced the turns,” she quipped, then groaned as she began to ride him in earnest.

~~~~~

_First Monday in November …_

Molly felt guilty for laughing when that mini-Mycroft crease appeared between Michael’s brows. The baby had reached the stage where anything he had in his hands went straight to his mouth, even if that meant hitting himself in the face with it. Just now he’d smacked himself with a squeaky bunny rattle, then given Molly an accusing look as if she’d done it to him.

Molly carefully removed the rattle from Michael’s fist, then bent to nuzzle his neck. When he gurgled at her, she slipped her hand under his back and raised him to a sitting position. She kept hold of him as she used her free hand to separate his legs into a wide V-shape, then lifted her hand far enough to allow him to sit on his own. He made it for three seconds before wobbling and starting to tilt backwards. Molly huffed a laugh and pressed him back up. “Very good, sweetie,” she said, meeting his bright eyes with hers. “Let’s try again.”

They spent ten minutes working on Michael’s sitting skills, then switched to tummy time. The more time he spent lifting his head and shoulders off the floor, the stronger his neck muscles got and the better he could control his head. Molly looked up when she heard footsteps in the hall, then her brow creased at Mrs. Collingwood’s expression when she appeared at the open door. “Is everything all right?”

“I just wanted to have a word after you’ve put Michael down for his nap,” Mrs. Collingwood said, waving a hand. “There’s no hurry.”

“We can talk now if Michael won’t be too much of a distraction,” Molly offered, seeing how the housekeeper twisted her hands together in contrast to her dismissive tone of voice. “Have a seat, Mrs. C, and tell me what’s wrong.” While Mrs. Collingwood settled on one of the sofas, Molly settled Michael on the mat of his play gym and gave the toy dog a squeak before rising to her feet.

“It’s my son – or rather Sam,” she said. “Richie doesn’t think Sam will be able to get off work for the whole two weeks.”

“I thought Sam hasn’t used all his holiday allowance this year,” Molly said, frowning. “Didn’t you tell me he was still due almost three weeks?”

“He is, but his boss told him being off over both Christmas and New Year’s put too much of a hardship on the other staff.”

Molly snorted. She and Mycroft were sending Mrs. Collingwood, her son and son-in-law to Sydney to spend Christmas with her other son and his family. They’d offered the trip to the housekeeper back in July to allow plenty of time for her family members to schedule time off. “I’m sure Sam is a great A&E nurse, but it’s not like the administrator wasn’t given plenty of time to take him off the year-end rota.” Molly patted Mrs. Collingwood’s arm. “Don’t worry, Mrs. C. Let me talk to Mycroft.”

“I don’t want you two bothered with my concerns –”

“We are _not_ going to let your trip to Sydney be spoiled,” Molly broke in. “Even if Richie agreed to go without Sam, all of you would be unhappy. Leave it with us.”

~~~~~

When Molly put Michael down for a nap after he finished nursing, she checked the time and crossed the hall to her bedroom and called Anthea. After their initial greetings, Molly got straight to the point. “Is this a bad time to talk to Mycroft?”

“Hold on – he’s just leaving for a meeting,” Anthea said.

 _“Don’t stop him!”_ Molly huffed when she heard their muffled voices and realized Anthea had already covered the phone.

“I caught him for you.”

“I didn’t want to disrupt his schedule,” Molly said, exasperated.

“He was leaving a few minutes early,” Anthea assured her. “Now stop wasting time. He should be calling you any –

“Bye! That’s him,” Molly rang off to take Mycroft’s call. “I’m so sorry for interrupting -”

He broke in. “It’s all right, my dear, but I don’t have long. What is it?”

“It’s about Sam. You know, Sam is -”

“Richie’s husband, yes. What about him?”

“He was told yesterday that he can’t take the full two weeks off. Mrs. C is quite upset, but didn’t want to bother us – “”

“Sam’s at St. Thomas’?”

“Yes.”

“Leave it with me,” he said.

Molly grinned when he rang off without saying goodbye. That break in his usual good manners meant he’d been in a real hurry, but still took time to talk to her.

~~~~~

_First Saturday in November …_

“I’ve often wondered what the two of you get up to on your own,” Mycroft remarked from the sitting room door, not trying to disguise his amusement.

Molly had straightened with a jerk and quickly turned at his first word. She adjusted her jumper and glanced down at Michael before facing that gleam in her husband’s eyes again. “This is supposed to help him get ready to crawl,” she explained rather feebly, a hand indicating the flattened cardboard box on which she’d been pulling the baby around on his tummy. “When he kicks his feet and moves his arms, he sometimes makes contact with the floor and that’s supposed to give him the idea of how to move on his own.”

_“Hmm.”_

Molly flushed and shrugged awkwardly. “It may look silly, but I believe these things work.”

“I’m sure they do,” Mycroft said, as he came into the room. He studied her expression for a few moments, then tucked some stray hair behind her ear and bent to kiss her. “You’re doing a wonderful job with Michael, my dear. Never doubt that I’m fully aware of how much time and effort you give him.” He tapped her chin with his forefinger. “And you’ve been solely responsible for feeding him all this time.”

“Not for much longer,” she said, lowering her head.

Mycroft laid his hands on her shoulders and kissed the crown of her head, then slid his hands down her back and pulled her against him. “Don’t cry,” he said, feeling it coming on.

“I’m not,” she said, then spoiled the effect by sniffing.

Mycroft rested his chin on her head and sighed. “You said Michael should start on solid food after six months and that you needed to prepare him to accept an occasional ‘emergency’ bottle once you return to work.”

“I know, and it’s all right,” she said, lifting a shoulder. “The time’s just gone by so quickly.” She slid her arms around his waist and settled more comfortably against him. “Don’t mind me.”

Mycroft pulled back to look at her. “You don’t have to return to Barts if you’ve had second thoughts.”

“Second, third and fourth,” she admitted. “No, I _do_ want to go back to work, but I also wish I could be here with Michael all the time.” She shook her head. “Just the same dilemma faced by most working mothers – and some fathers, too. We can’t be in two places at the same time. Besides, I’m luckier than most. I’ve had all this time with him without any worries about the loss of income, plus I still don’t have to go back full-time until January.”

Mike Stamford had agreed to Molly returning to work on a part-time basis for the last six weeks of the year, saying he’d be happy to have her back under any circumstances. She knew that was an exaggeration, but had much appreciated his understanding her desire to delay the return to a full-time work schedule.

Mycroft gave her a quick kiss, then stepped back and checked his pocket watch. He’d been working at home most of the morning, but needed to handle some business with the PM in person. “I have a lunch meeting at Downing Street, but should be back mid-afternoon.”

“Do give Charlie my love,” Molly said facetiously. She’d met Charles Hadley and his wife the previous year at Lady Smallwood’s and had been unimpressed to say the least.

Mycroft snorted, then stooped to tickle Michael under the chin. The baby had rolled over while his parents were talking and now flailed all four limbs in excitement at his father’s attention. Mycroft scooped Michael off the floor and pressed a quick kiss to his forehead before transferring him to Molly. “See you later.”

~~~~~

_The next day …_

Mycroft and Molly were settled into their usual corners of the sitting room sofa mid-morning Sunday. Molly finished reading an interview with the star of a new West End musical and folded her newspaper. When she wiggled her toes where they were tucked under Mycroft’s thigh, he dropped the corner of his paper and looked at her, arching a brow. “Mycroft …”

At Molly’s tentative tone, he lowered the paper to his lap to give her his full attention. “What is it?”

“I was thinking Michael and I might go down to The Cottage for the week,” she said. “Your work has obviously been more stressful lately and without us here you could feel free to give it your full focus.”

Molly had leaned over to toss her paper onto the coffee table, so missed Mycroft’s initial reaction. By the time she turned back to him, Mycroft had schooled his features into a more pleasant expression. “Mummy and Dad would certainly be happy to have you visit them,” he said lightly, “but don’t feel you should go away on my behalf. You and Michael don’t interfere with my work.”

Molly scooted down the sofa on her bottom to sit facing him with legs folded under her. “I didn’t mean to imply that you think we’re a hindrance, but you don’t seem to focus single-mindedly on work the way you used to,” she said. “You have to admit we can be a distraction.”

“Not an unwanted distraction,” he said.

“I know,” she said, giving him a smile. “It’s all right, though? I thought I’d call Mummy before they take their afternoon nap.”

“That’s fine, my dear,” he said, picking up his paper. “Why don’t you call her now.”

“Good idea,” she said, swinging her legs off the sofa and reaching for the baby monitor. Mycroft continued staring at the open door for several moments after Molly passed through it, then turned back to his paper.

~~~~~

When Mycroft left his dressing room late that night, Molly was sitting with her knees drawn up and her back resting against several pillows placed between her and the headboard while she updated their NFP chart. She raised her eyes and smiled when he sat on the side of the bed. “The timing of this trip is perfect. I should be ovulating Tuesday so that means only a couple of days of condoms this month.”

“You know I don’t mind using a condom if it means you don’t have to restart the pill.”

“I know, but you have to admit sex feels better without them.”

“True,” he said, holding a hand out for the notebook. He slipped it into the drawer of the night table before standing to remove his dressing gown. Mycroft had been relieved to leave the detailed NFP record-keeping to Molly. They’d met with a Natural Family Planning specialist a month after Michael’s birth and had so far made do with condoms alone to augment the natural pregnancy-preventive effects of full-time breastfeeding. There was still a small risk of pregnancy but they’d accepted it to keep Molly off chemical contraceptives.

Mycroft sat on the edge of the bed again and looked at Molly. When she started to shift away from the headboard to lie down, he put a staying hand on her thigh. She raised her brows, but said nothing as Mycroft got onto the bed and shifted on his knees until he was facing her, then lowered himself to sit on his calves. Molly stared at him, feeling her heart rate increase at the intent look in his eyes. When he finally leaned forward to kiss her, Molly lifted her arms to encircle his shoulders and pulled him closer as she settled against the pillows. Mycroft pulled away when the kiss deepened and sat back again to look at her, and Molly dropped her arms, leaving her hands resting on her thighs. He obviously had a plan, so she waited silently.

After a few moments, Mycroft hooked his thumbs under the spaghetti straps of Molly’s chemise and at her nod carefully maneuvered them down her arms until the slip dropped to her waist. He arched a brow at her, waiting until she lifted her bottom, then tugged the slip over her hips and out from under her before tossing it on the floor. He met her eyes briefly, then slowly lowered his gaze to her nursing bra and further to her lacy knickers. He leaned forward again and caught the top edge of them between thumbs and forefingers, and Molly again lifted her bottom so he could pull them down her legs and over her feet. Molly felt the warmth of the flush spread over her face and down her throat when his eyes met hers, then couldn’t quite suppress a gasp when he wrapped his hands around her knees and tugged her lower on the bed. Molly’s eyes followed his hand when Mycroft reached for his pillow, then she flushed more deeply when he motioned for her to lift herself again. She closed her eyes when he used one hand to lift her higher while arranging the pillow under her with his free hand.

Molly kept eyes shut, feeling overwhelmed once again by Mycroft’s methodical approach to such an intimate act, then started when he put his hands between her knees and lifted and spread them before lowering her feet to rest flat on the mattress. When he lifted his hands away without saying anything, she raised her lids enough to peek at him, then squeezed them shut at the sight of him studying the arrangement of her body.

“Are you comfortable like this?”

Mycroft’s low murmur caused a quiver to race through Molly, leaving goose pimples that raised the fine hairs on her nape and arms. _“Hmm.”_

“Is this position comfortable, my dear?” he asked again but in a more normal tone of voice. “Is it putting a strain on your back?”

Molly suddenly understood that Mycroft wanted her to assume an active role instead of lying back and accepting whatever he might do. She licked her lips and swallowed to ease the dryness in her throat, then forced herself to open her eyes. “Um, it’s fine … comfortable, I mean.”

Mycroft’s lips quirked at Molly’s blush, but widened into a warm smile when she made herself hold his eyes. He lifted himself onto all fours before stretching out his legs and bracing his upper body on his forearms … then without any more preliminaries, he slipped both hands under her bottom and dipped his head between her thighs.

From the angle at which Molly was propped against the headboard, she could see Mycroft’s face and had to shut her eyes when he sucked his bottom lip between his teeth after licking a long stripe along the center of her core. She tilted her head back against the headboard so she couldn’t see him – _them_ \- but tried to show her active involvement by pushing against the mattress with her feet to offer herself more fully to him and carding her fingers through his hair to hold his head against her. She stopped trying to suppress her moans when his tongue delved deep, twisting and flicking and laving, seemingly determined to taste every bit of flesh he could reach. When he used the edge of his teeth on her and brought his fingers into play, Molly cried out and thought she couldn’t take anymore. Until Mycroft showed her she could.

~~~~~

_At The Cottage …_

Molly looked out the car window to see where they were as she forced herself to stop thinking about the night before. She rolled her head against the back of the seat and looked down at Michael, smiling to see him sleeping so peacefully. She hesitated when she met Andrew’s gaze in the rearview mirror, then smiled briefly before turning to look out the window again. She’d immediately agreed to Andrew driving them to Surrey since Michael would have been in the backseat by himself if she drove. Molly could have asked Mrs. Collingwood to join them, but didn’t want to leave Mycroft to fend for himself.

Molly’s thoughts again turned to Sunday night and she flushed, thinking of what they’d done to each other once she’d recovered from Mycroft’s attentions – and how they’d turned to each other again early that morning … although not at such length. When they’d finally separated and headed for their respective dressing rooms, Molly had collapsed on the padded bench in front of her vanity table and stared at her reflection in the mirror, blushing when she met her _own_ eyes. She could only hope she hadn’t appeared as gauche as she’d felt when she entered the kitchen after bathing and dressing. She could hardly meet Mycroft’s eyes and then felt hot and tongue-tied when Mrs. Collingwood offered her a cup of tea.

Molly sat up straighter when they passed through the village. After a few more miles Andrew turned onto the lane leading to The Cottage, and two minutes later they turned onto the long drive that rose gently until it widened at the house. Andrew parked by Violet’s car, then opened the car door. “Do you want me to carry Michael in the car seat, Mrs. Holmes?”

“Thank you, Andrew, but I’ll take him,” Molly said, smiling at him. “If you’ll bring the luggage …”

“Of course, Mrs. Holmes.”

Molly shifted to drop her feet to the ground. “Andrew?”

He walked around from the boot to stand in front of her. “Ma’am?”

 _“Jeez,_ Andrew …. Could we leave _that_ moniker for the Queen?” When his brow creased, Molly sighed. “I don’t suppose you would call me Molly.”

“That wouldn’t be –

“Appropriate … right. What about ‘Miss Molly’ like Mrs. Collingwood?”

“If you’d prefer that, Mrs. Holmes.”

Molly suppressed an eye roll. “Never mind, Andrew.” She swung her legs back into the car and unbuckled the baby’s car seat so she could turn it sideways. Michael was still sleeping, but roused when Molly lifted him out of the carrier and settled him against her shoulder. Andrew came to stand by the door, and Molly handed him her handbag and the baby’s bag before scooting to the edge of the seat and rising to her feet ... just in time to smile at Violet and Siger as they came around the corner of the house.

“We were upstairs and didn’t hear you arrive,” Violet said, bending to kiss Molly’s cheek, then shifting until she could see Michael’s face. “Did he sleep the whole way?”

“Yes, so he should be ready to play with you and Siger,” Molly said, grinning at her father-in-law when he straightened after kissing her temple. “How are you, Dad?”

“Fine, just fine, my dear,” he said, with his usual kind smile. “And all the better at having you and the baby here.”

“Come on, then …,” Violet said briskly, “why are we standing out here?”

Molly glanced at Andrew, who was staring after Violet. “Come on, Andrew … why are we standing out here?” The agent looked at Molly and forgot himself enough to grin at her echoing Violet’s words and tone.

After he brought their things into the house, Andrew turned down a cup of tea and vanished to wherever Mycroft’s agents/drivers/bodyguards normally disappeared. Molly was aware that the large, detached, barnlike garage contained living quarters and a CCTV monitoring setup used in Mycroft’s normal security arrangements for his parents, and the more beefed-up detail put in place during his visits, but Molly didn’t know any specifics, nor did she want to know. It was difficult enough not to dwell on the _concept_ of being watched – or _watched over_ – without facing what the reality of it entailed.

The rest of the morning went by quickly as the grandparents took part in Michael’s playtime with gusto. Siger even got on the floor with him and took a turn with the play gym, much to Michael’s delight and the women’s amusement - and Mycroft’s as well, going by his quick reply to the photo she texted him.

_\- Do remind Dad he actually has to get back up. MH_

_\- Dad says mind your own business - or words to that effect. xox MHH_

While Violet finished preparing lunch, Molly nursed Michael, and Siger went upstairs to set up the mini-cot. After they ate and cleaned up the kitchen, everyone retreated to their rooms for a nap.

The rest of the day passed quietly. Everything Michael did was entertaining to Violet and Siger so Molly pretty much let them take charge of his afternoon playtime, just occasionally offering a suggestion for activities from her place on the sofa. At half past four, Molly left them to it and went to the kitchen, assuming responsibility for preparing their afternoon tea while Violet was distracted by the baby.

By the time Molly took Michael upstairs at half past six and then returned to the sitting room after going through his usual bedtime routine, Violet and Siger were both in their chairs, ostensibly reading, but they’d actually dozed off behind their reading glasses. Molly grinned at them affectionately and quietly settled in the corner of the sofa with her own book.

Tuesday continued much the same as the day before, with Violet and Siger eager for as much hands-on time with Michael as possible. Molly stepped back to a certain extent, letting her in-laws take the lead with both fun and practical activities, knowing the time was soon coming when she’d have to let others take charge of Michael’s care while she worked. It was easy emotionally to allow his grandparents to care for him since they did so with love, as well as experience, and she enjoyed watching them interact. Otherwise, his routine was unchanged - sleeping, nursing, playing, nursing, sleeping, nursing, playing, nursing, sleeping … and that carried over through most of Wednesday.

_Wednesday evening …_

“Mrs. C ... is everything all right?”

“I think so, Miss Molly, but –”

“But what?” The housekeeper didn’t answer immediately. “But what? Is Mycroft okay?”

“Maybe I shouldn’t have called.”

 _“Tell_ me - what’s wrong?”

The housekeeper sighed. “We thought you should know –”

“We?”

“Walter and I,” she clarified. “Mr. Mycroft seems to be avoiding the house, Miss Molly.”

“You know he sometimes stays round-the-clock at work when there’s some sort of crisis going on.”

“Walter told me Mr. Mycroft slept at the Diogenes the past two nights,” she said, then sighed again. “I’ve only seen him when he came home yesterday morning to bathe and pick up a change of clothes.”

“The Diogenes is more convenient to his office.”

“A difference of ten minutes at most,” Mrs. Collingwood said. “Do you really think that would keep Mr. Mycroft away from his own bed?”

Molly turned toward her parents-in-law without answering. They were both staring at her, wearing almost identical concerned expressions. “I’ll be home tomorrow, Mrs. C, but don’t tell Mycroft. All right?” Once they’d rung off, Molly went to sit across from Violet and Siger. “I’m sorry to cut the visit short, but I think Mycroft needs me at home.”

Violet looked surprised. “Did he say so?”

“No, he _didn’t,_ and that has to change,” Molly said, “whether Mycroft likes it or not.”

Violet frowned. “I don’t understand.”

“Nor do I entirely, but he’s stayed away from the house, and Mrs. C and Walter think it’s because Michael and I aren’t there.”

Violet looked at Siger, then turned back to Molly. “You should go home, my dear.”

“That’s what I think, Mummy.”

“And don’t wait until tomorrow.”

“But it’s already –“

“It’s not quite six o’clock,” Siger said, breaking his silence. “You could be home by half past eight.”

“If Mycroft’s at the Diogenes –”

“Won’t they let you in?”

“I suppose so,” Molly said, then slumped in her chair, silently weighing the choices. After a minute or so, she sat back up. “All right, I’m going. Would you look after Michael while I get our things together?”

“Of course, dear. Do you need my help?”

“Thank you, Mummy, but we didn’t bring that much. Dad, could you help me with the cot?” Molly called Andrew as she and Siger headed upstairs. “I need you to do me a favor, Andrew.”

~~~~~

It was actually a quarter of nine when Andrew pulled to a stop in front of the Diogenes. “If you’ll wait here, Mrs. Holmes, I’ll make sure Mr. Holmes is here before you go in.”

Molly studied Michael’s sleeping face, looking for any sign that he might wake soon. She’d nursed him on the way to London and he’d been asleep for close to an hour. She looked up when the car door opened and Andrew bent down to her level.

~~~~~

Mycroft didn’t react when the door opened behind him since he was expecting Patrick with the tea tray, but he straightened after a moment when there was no sound of the cart. Something in the air caused him to freeze, then one of Molly’s hands came to rest lightly on his shoulder. For a moment, Mycroft’s mind went blank, then he closed his eyes and quickly raised his hand to cover hers.

Molly leaned over Mycroft and ran her free hand over his head before cupping his cheek. She couldn’t stop tears from welling in her eyes when she bent to kiss his forehead. “You have to start telling me what you need, Mycroft Holmes,” she whispered, “what you _want,_ you silly man.”

Mycroft lifted her hand off his shoulder and threaded their fingers together, then tugged steadily until she sat on his lap. “The next time you want to do something for me,” he said, opening his eyes to meet hers, “buy me a tie.”

Molly’s lips trembled, then firmed before they relaxed in a smile. “You’d hate the kind of tie I’d choose.”

Mycroft slid his arms around her waist. “No, I wouldn’t,” he said slowly, “but I can’t promise to _wear_ it.”

Molly gave a watery snuffle, then twined her arms around his neck and pressed her cheek to his. “Can we please go home now?”

Mycroft lowered his head to nuzzle Molly’s throat and sent a shiver through her when he murmured, “I _am_ home now.”

**Author's Note:**

> This installment (along with a shorter one I hope to write in the next few days) bridges what would have been a time gap in the storyline between the previous work in this series, "A Necessary Evil," and my upcoming part of the 12 Days of Mollcroft. My "Day 10" is due to be posted in about a week. After that appears with the collection, I plan to post a copy of it as part of this series and then to take a break from writing.
> 
> Please leave a comment if you feel like it and have the time. I'd _love_ to hear your thoughts about this story or anything else to do with Mycroft and/or Molly! :)
> 
> I hope all of you who celebrate it have had a wonderful Christmas. Best wishes to you all for a very happy and healthy New Year ... starting with watching The Abominable Bride!!!


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